A Little Bit of Mystery

I am mortified. It wasn't enough that Mr. Cane saw my decaying neighborhood and dilapidated house, but I think he also caught a glimpse of Augustus being his lovely self.

Why did he even drive me home? Why did he insist on it even when I said no?

It's just so damn annoying. Jumping off a moving vehicle is not fun at all.

Yes, I'm certainly ashamed of where I live. Who wouldn't be?

We aren't homeless, but Centennial and the surrounding area are something else.

I don't even want to consider that he saw Augustus. Just, no.

I lean on the dirty window of the bus. The muggy air wafts through my nose, public transportation from the poorest part of Portland isn't the best. Clutching my bag closer and tucking it to my side, I see that I'm near downtown.

It takes me 2 buses to get to work and a long ride if it's on my bike. Unfortunately, I need to cough up the extra dollars just for these bus rides. It's so mortifying to get a ride from Mr. Cane but he isn't aware of how that helps with my weekly budget. If only I can stomach the shame that creeps up when we're near my neighborhood.

Cane Industries towers over the other structures in Burnside Street, the central hub of the city.

The 40-story massive building looms over the buildings beside it. I enter the reception area and immediately see Janice with her scowl greeting me. I just know that she's side-eyeing my cuts and bruises. My ankle is feeling better but the limp is still very visible. I still hide it, knowing that she's ready to tell anyone willing to hear the latest office juicy gossip.

I quickly head over to the lifts. Pushing the button as fast as I can to escape her gaze.

I zip up my jacket and step off on the 10th floor. The long corridor that greets me does not help me feel any welcome. Nor does the bust of a life-sized lion situated in the middle of this dimly lit hallway. It's mane visible from the lift.

I pad through the carpeted floor and slide my hands through the dark walls that would lead me to my little nook at the end. Careful to not bump into the paintings that must have belonged to a museum at some point. The little spotlights on them clue me into their value.

I stop in front of one that caught my eye. It's of a woman, staring longingly outside the window of a gloomy Victorian-era room. The extravagance of the room should be the highlight of the painting, and the four-poster bed and the general opulence of the boudoir should be the focus, but the painter chose the woman's eyes instead. The melancholic look in them is hard to look away from.

"What do you mean the client has complaints!?" An infuriated but muffled voice inside the massive room snaps me out of it.

I rush towards my desk. Wary that the boss might see me wandering the corridors. It's still so early, how long has he been here already?

I power my computer on and put my lunch away in the first drawer of my desk. I put my cell phone in the second and got out my notebook from the third. I lined my ballpens to my left, beside my computer monitor, always according to color. Red, black, and blue.

There's a yellow stress ball with a smiley face beside my keyboard. Must be from Charlie since the Marketing Department has these kinds of quirky things. It sits mocking me with its happiness so I grab it and throw it inside the drawer with my cell phone.

I take out my sticky notes and line them up by color. My eyes search for anything that's out of order, satisfied that everything is where it should be. Keeping everything in its place grounds me.

I flip my notebook to the first page, scanning through my notes once again. So far I just know the basics about Evelyn Myers. I need to fix that fast if I don't want to be yelled at.

Deciding to dig up more information, I head up to the 20th floor.

The Accounting Department is a maze of cubicles, white overhead lights, and clicking of keyboards. Their stern-looking faces concentrated on monitors or on sheets.

Finding Rosie's cubicle isn't that hard since she's the only one who looks up when I stop and look around.

"Girl, what brings you up?" She makes sure to save her file while giving me attention.

"Sorry, I didn't know anybody else. Am I disturbing you?"

"It's alright, I'll take my break. Are you looking for dirt on Evelyn?"

"Okay... how do you know that?"

"Janice." She deadpans. "Okay, so what do you already know? Let's run through it. You know she's in charge of approval and release of monthly salary, right?" I nod. "She gets fast approval 'cause Mr. Cane has full trust in her." I nod again.

"So get this, what I heard from higher-ups is that she would find a way to get advances for certain people she likes." I cock my head.

"Yeah, and this is the real score; she has funds that Mr. Cane 'approved' of, but when audit time comes, she seems to misplace all the receipts."

"What? How long has this been going on?" Rosie shrugs. "Dunno dude, I just heard about it. Apparently, Mr. Cane had her audited and then people started talking."

"So no one was checking just because they all thought she has blanket authority over approvals?" She bobs her head.

"And Jerry, our Department Head, is nervous. I've never seen him so agitated when they were talking about it. Like he was almost sweating through his suit, ya know? That's sus, in my opinion, 'cause he's always so calm and borderline boring." I hum.

"But can't assume, all I'm sure of is that it's impossible for Accounting to not have any idea something is happening. I mean, we're literally checking the purchases and advances every week. Someone should be aware of the holes, especially the boss."

"Anywho, you going down to 7th for lunch later? Charlie's got some weird salad."

"With the oranges? That's nasty but yeah, sure. Thanks, Rosie."

"You didn't hear it from me." She gives me a two-finger salute.

----

The Human Resources Department on the 15th floor is quite the opposite of Accounting. If it was sterile and all business on the 20th, it's all cozy and colorful here. To the right of the entryway, huge yellow couches are littered, inviting anyone to come and sit. It's a good try in appeasing the disgruntled employees who frequented with their complaints and HR queries.

I sit down on one and it immediately swallows me. I jot down what Rosie told me in my little notebook but I still can't present that to Mr. Cane as evidence. Those are all speculations, glorified office gossip. If I don't come up with something, I would be out of a job by tomorrow. I don't know what I'm planning to do here, but at least I'm near the action and away from Mr. Asshole.

Quick footsteps in the corridor and sniffles. A young woman profusely wiping her face with a handkerchief is plopping down on the other side of the couches. More sniffles and a few hiccups. I go back to minding my own business, jotting down ideas.

The woman is full-on sobbing. She wraps her beige cardigan around her small frame while trying to rock her body. It's so awkward, I'm contemplating sneaking my way out. I know how it feels when you just can't stop yourself from expressing your emotions in public.

I can't count on one hand how many times I've nearly flavored my coffee cup with my salty tears during cafe visits when I've had a row with Augustus.

And this is clearly a mental breakdown happening right in front of my eyes.

I stand and creep towards the lift, careful not to announce my presence to give the woman some semblance of privacy.

"You're the new girl, right? Mr. Cane's assistant?" She asks me as she wipes her nose with her once-white handkerchief.

I turn around and nod. "Yeah, I'm Olivia. Are you okay Miss?"

"Andrea. I'm Ms. Myers' assistant." Oh, Evelyn's. I nod once more. She motions me to sit down beside her. I do not want to. Honestly, I just need to figure out my shit before I'm asked to leave tomorrow.

"Ms. Evelyn is stealing from the company." That stops me from exiting. Why is she telling me this?

"I knew it. I was part of it. Maybe not directly, but the little tasks she gave me? Encode a form, submit this request, and follow up on that. I had the feeling it was not all black and white. I just feel so bad."

"Is that why you're...." I gestured towards her teary, red face.

"Yeah, I think Ms. Evelyn's planning to pin all the theft on me." She sniffles. Blows her nose.

"I signed some of the requests. I processed those. Who would believe that I was just following her orders? It's her word against mine. And you don't understand how manipulative she can get. She can make anyone believe what she's saying." Another hiccup.

"She asked me to compile all the forms and receipts under my name and give it to her this afternoon. Those requests that she told me to accomplish! I'm so totally screwed." She tells me with a hoarse voice.

"I can't really lose this job, I have a daughter in pre-school. I'm a single mom and this is the only thing keeping a roof over our heads." The sobbing continues. I don't know if rubbing her shoulder is comforting her but I still try.

"I'm so stressed out, I can't even cry in there," she points to where I presume her desk is, "cause she might see me. I'm stalling, I said I'm still looking for all of the forms."

I stare at her. Gauging if I could trust this woman's word.

"Andrea, I think I can help you..."

----

"And you did all that before lunch? Damn, girl." Charlie points his forkful of greens at my grinning face.

"I just gave Mr.Cane his evidence. Doesn't hurt that Andrea here had all the files with her. He was surprised that I essentially snooped on HR's floor. In my defense, I just wanted to get away from him." I snickered into my ham sandwich.

At first, I wasn't sure that Mr.Cane believed us when I came into his office with Andrea in tow. After a quick look at the forms, he hardly said anything and asked us to leave. Rudely, I might add.

The next thing I knew, I had an enthusiastic Andrea hugging me. She heard that Evelyn was fired, and Andrea actually saw her shocked face when Mr.Cane gave her his signature phone call.

I quickly peeled the girl off me and upon her quizzical look, told her to accompany me to lunch with the girls. Charlie had an orange salad.

"Yeah, Mr. Cane was scary. I know it's been two days but how can you stand those ice-cold stares?" Andrea asked. "I was about to just let myself be framed up, lose my job, and be homeless instead of being in a room with him one more hour." She said in between bites of her own sandwich.

"He isn't that bad..." I try.

"Yeah, yeah he is that bad." I retract my statement. Who am I fooling here? We've all seen him shout at the employees.

----

When I return to my desk, a yellow sticky note is on my computer screen. It says 'good job' with a smiley face. The yellow stress ball is now under it. I'm certain I threw that inside my drawer with my phone this morning.

I'm sure the note is not from Mr. Asshole since he didn't even acknowledge me after the whole Evelyn task and he doesn't look like someone who puts smileys on anything.

Might be Charlie since he's the only one quirky enough to pull off these kinds of things.

Why would he snoop inside my drawers though?